Billie and Brandon: Untamed

Prologue

New Book!!

I was thinking what I could do for my next book. I was playing the last of us and decided you know what would be hot? Billie and Brandon in a western type cowboy setting fighting crime and shooting their pistols and saving the world together. Or in their case, their very small conservative early 20th century town that is basically a town where the women get married straight out of highschool, raise a couple children at home while their husbands go out to the whore houses and fuck who knows what. And did you guess it? Billie and Brandon separately each don't want a bar of that type of lifestyle. So let's see where that takes us, shall we...

Please give it a chance as it will take a few chapters to warm up to the actual story line:)

DISCLAIMER: There are mentions of rape, prostitution, and abuse in this story. And also none of the things down in this story will be about race. Them getting into it with police is only because they will be young delinquent cowboys who have a mission to complete that will uproar the town.

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Brandon crouched in the shadows of the alleyway, eyes narrowed as he gazed darkly at the procession that was occurring near the tree of the watering well in the town center square. He was supposed to be at work right now, but this was a pressing matter.

"Goddamn..." he muttered under his breath, picking up the revolver of the deputy he had just knocked out. He had to do this right. He had only two shots. Apparently this fucker of a deputy didn't think it was necessary to carry extra bullets on him. And if Brandon was even a fraction of an inch off on his shot, Ezra would get his head blown off. And if Brandon missed, Ezra would still die anyway.

The idiot had to get in trouble with that son of a bitch sheriff, Holstein. Over a whore no less...

And now, for drawing his gun in public, he was going to be publicly hanged. Of course, Brandon couldn't sit still and let his friend get hanged for something so stupid like this.

Which is why he found himself a couple feet away from Ezra's form, staring at the thin slack of rope above Ezra's head. Sheriff Holstein was currently standing in front of Ezra, his back turned to Brandon and no doubt, a mocking expression on his face, judging by Ezra's death glare and pursed lips.

Brandon watched with narrowed eyes as the sheriff started laughing aloud, and Ezra spat at his feet, his eyes blazing with fire. The sheriff jolted the cart under Ezra's feet and the noose tightened immeasurably around Ezra's neck when his center of balance shifted negatively. Brandon squinted, counting the number of spectators in the area. It was still fairly early in the morning, so only the few who began their work days with the waking and sleeping of the animals they took care of were up and about. There were a few who might be in the way of Ezra's escape path, but Ezra was resourceful. No doubt he would be able to find shelter somewhere before the sheriff even realised he was free.

Brandon did reckon he could shoot the rung of the cart Ezra was being forced to stand on to knock the sheriff and his other bumbling deputy out of the way, but chances were it would drag Ezra and really choke him to death then. Sure, Brandon could get the top of the rope at the same time. He had the skills. But he wanted to avoid causing any possible harm to the few civilians gathered around Ezra. Besides, Ezra's arms were tied, and he was already off balance. Knocking out the "ground" under his feet would only lead him to a faster untimely death.

"Ready to die?" Brandon heard Sheriff Holstein cackle arrogantly, clutching his bulbous stomach in amusement.

Sighing in irritation, Brandon stood back up slowly, hoping Ezra would be prepared to run his ass off. Pulling his black cowboy hat down further over his eyes, he lifted the pistol and aimed at the thin strip of rope tied to the tree branch above Ezra's head. It was a long shot, but it was now or never.

He cocked the pistol with a glare of determination on his features.

And pulled the trigger.